


The Limits of Our Worlds

by VeryImportantDemon



Category: Stitchers (TV)
Genre: AU: Collegium Sugit, Cameron just loves her a lot, Camille is the best bro, College AU, Friendship, Gen, Hospitals, Languages, Stitchmas in July, StitchmasinJuly2016, The slightest reference to Camille/Kirsten, hardcore friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 08:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7611178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImportantDemon/pseuds/VeryImportantDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The limits of my language means the limits of my world." -Ludwig Wittgenstein</p>
<p>In which Cameron and Camille don't just speak English, are college roommates, and - consequently - are best friends.<br/>Or: They are both massive word nerds, and these are the stories of the times Camille has used language to help her best friend, and the time Cameron tried to do the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Limits of Our Worlds

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to StitchmasinJuly2016! My little gift to dee-brief over on tumblr. Dee, I love your Collegium Sugit tag, it gives me life. I wanted to do something in that AU and then I tried to incorporate some aspects from an ask you answered that I had sent anonymously. I hope you enjoy the fic and the bonus gift aesthetic at the beginning.  
> For all you people who are like wtf is that, [here's](http://dee-brief.tumblr.com/tagged/AU%3A-Collegium-Sugit) the link to her tumblr tag.

 

**One: Latin, Portuguese**

  
" _Volo, volas, volat_ ," Cameron muttered. He dug his nails into his arms, chewing on his lip. Now was truly a terrible time to be having a panic attack, right?

He was finally on his own after years of being babied, he was finally standing on his own, his heart beating on its own, and on the first day, he lost it for some stupid reason. There had just been too many people down in the quad, too many people talking. It was too loud, too loud, and someone stepped on his glasses, and he couldn't see, and his heart was beating too fast and he couldn't breathe.

Yeah, Cameron Goodkin was clearly fucking fantastic at this whole adult thing.

He stumbled up the stairs, his cracked lenses barely held in one hand. His room had to be around here somewhere, right? He sent a quick prayer upstairs to whoever existed and/or happened to be listening that he could actually find his room and that his roommate - who was already a week late - hadn't chosen now to show up.

Cameron swallowed harshly, squinting at the numbers beside the door he was approaching. His heart was beating too fast and his chest hurt. He really needed to sit down and calm down, but he couldn't. He couldn't, because he was lost.

" _Volamus, volant_ ," he recited to himself, stumbling again towards the other end of the hall. There was a door open there. But he'd locked his door. It wasn't his, was it?

" _Volo, volas, volat,_ " he said again, his nail digging crescents into his elbows. He drew in a deep breath because he could practically feel his scar aching, and that couldn't be good.

Suddenly, as if she'd materialized from thin air - which Cameron would have pointed out was scientifically impossible if he were lucid enough to talk science - a girl appeared in the doorway, pulling it closed behind her. She was wearing a nice pair of dark skinny jeans and a dark red crop top with some kind of swirly design on it he couldn't quite make out. Her hair was brown and reached to about her shoulders, curling under slightly. He couldn't make out her face very well, but he was almost 100% sure she was probably thinking, _who the fuck is this guy_.

" _Puta que pariu_ ," she said, and immediately, Cameron straightened up. There was something about different languages - especially Latin - that helped him calm down. That was why he recited Latin conjugations when he got upset. Sure, that wasn't Latin, but it was close enough.

"Volam- sorry," he stammered. He shuffled to the side, intending to let her pass, relaxing his arms slightly. However, instead of just walking past him, she strode closer, squinting.

Her face swam into focus and - completely objectively - she was kind of hot.

"Sorry," he repeated, and Cameron tried to step to the side again, but she put out a hand. "Whoa, man," she said. "You don't look so hot." He shook his head, but his heart was still beating to fast, and honestly, he really needed to sit down. "I'm fine," he said. "F-fine."

She snorted, and maybe he was already falling into friend-love, because she was completely unafraid to call him on his bullshit.

"No offense, man," she said with a dry laugh, "but you look like porra. Come on, I'll take you back to my dorm." She paused for a brief moment. "Not like that. You know what I mean. I have this tendency to make anything and everything suggestive."

Cameron cracked a weak smile, and he felt his heartbeat slow down. Whoever this was, he already liked her. She took his elbow and began gently tugging him towards the door she'd just vacated. "I'm Camille," she said, pulling a key from her jeans pocket to unlock the door. "Please don't tell me your name yet, because although you look slightly better, I feel like you might puke all over me if you open your mouth, and I just bought these shoes. These were, like, 200 dollar boots, man."

Cameron found himself, somehow, smiling again.

She'd sat him down on her roommate's unoccupied bed. "Come on, man, you're dying. What do I need to do? What calms you down?" Cameron swallowed harshly, forcing himself to speak. "Latin," he said finally. "Con- conjugating." Camille huffed slightly, barely rolling her eyes. "Had to go and find a nerd... Alright, talk Latin to me."

Cameron drew in a slightly shuddering breath. " _Volo, volas, volat,_ " he recited from memory. Camille rattled them off behind him, pronunciation near perfect. He blinked at her once, frowning in the silence. "Come on," she prompted after a few second, still sitting beside him on the bed. "That can't be it. Lay 'em on me."

Cameron swallowed again before saying, " _Volamus, volant._ " Camille nodded slightly. "Alright. What's that mean?" Cameron chewed on his lip for a split second before saying. "To fly."

She nodded. "Okay, cool. My turn." She wiggled on the bed for a second before getting comfortable and declaring, " _Voo, voas, voa, voamos, voam_." Cameron frowned, trying to figure out what language it was she spoke. "Portuguese?" he ventured finally. She nodded. "Duh. Now, go on. Conjugate for me, nerd."

His lips twitched slightly, and he did.

About ten minutes later, Cameron had calmed down enough to tell her that his name was Cameron and that he lived here, too, and when did she get here?

About eleven minutes later, Camille brought him a beer out of the fridge and told him about an hour ago.

"College sucks," she said, lifting her drink to him after pulling the tab. "Yeah," Cameron echoed, studying him before taking a swig. " _Collegium sugit_."

Camille - who was definitely his new best friend, he was sure of that much - frowned slightly. "Latin, right?"

Cameron smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Latin."

\---

**Two: Morse Code**

  
Cameron had known his new best friend for approximately three weeks and honestly? It was kind of great. He always had someone to hang out with, someone to go full science nerd with (even if she made fun of him for his Doctor Who obsession), someone who didn't know about his dad and didn't treat him like glass.

He still felt a little uneasy around her, however. He walked on tip-toes, terrified she'd find out and leave him like all his other so-called friends had. Who wanted such a breakable best friend? And Camille was so... So cool. She always had the coolest clothes and was, well, socially confident. She wasn't afraid to go after any girl or guy who caught her eye.

Cameron wasn't anything special. He wasn't that smart. He wasn't that cool. He wasn't that confident. The only thing he really was happened to be... Breakable. And frankly a little useless.

So yeah, maybe he never told her. But it wasn't like he was lying to her. He was just omitting certain aspects of his past because he didn't want to loose a friend.

This was okay.

It was totally okay.

He wasn't lying to Camille. He really wasn't.

Maybe if he... If he kept telling himself that.

Yeah, yeah. That was what he was going to do. He was going to keep telling himself that until he believed it.

"Hey, Cammy Cam," Camille sang, wandering through the door of the dorm room, slamming the door shut. Cameron winced slightly, squeezing his eyes shut. This stupid headache had been building all day. He rubbed his temples slightly and caught his breath before closing his laptop and sitting up on the bed.

"Hey, Camille," he greeted. "I got us invited to, like, the hottest party," she said, spinning around to head to their tiny fridge. She shoved whatever she's purchased - he wasn't really looking - onto the shelves. Oh no... Another party? Cameron loved hanging out with Camille, really. The parties she dragged him to tended to be kind of fun, if he managed to stay by her side and not get lost.

Normally, he wouldn't mind, but today... He didn't have a very good feeling about today.

Camille turned back to him, beaming, and already turning to change her outfit. "Come on, Cammy! Get dressed!"

Cameron threw his head back and sighed loudly. He'd been screwed the moment she'd walked in. He could never tell her no. It was his fatal flaw, probably.

" _Collegium sugit_ ," he said to himself, but he really would do anything for her.

Half an hour later, Cameron - in a dark blue button down and jeans - and Camille - who was wearing something flawless as always - were walking up the steps of a fraternity house across campus. He blinked, catching his breath when they reached the top. There had to have been, like, 20 of them, right? Or more than that?

He glanced behind them and counted quickly.

Four.

"Hey, Cam, you alright?" Camille asked, furrowing her brow. "We can go-"

Cameron shook his head immediately. "No, 's fine," he said. "You wanted to... Let's just..." He stopped again, drawing in a breath. "I'm... Okay. Need a drink. Let's go in." Camille smiled faintly. "Alright," she said. "You should come to the gym with me sometime. Let's go getcha something fruity and/or alcoholic."

Cameron smiled again, and let Camille lead him into the unknown.

It wasn't too long after, when Cameron had a drink in a red plastic cup in his hand when Camille spotted someone. "Oo, there she is," Camille crowed. "That's the new chick. Kirsten. I hear she's batshit, but totally hot." Cameron laughed softly, his lips twisting up slightly. "Aren't you dating that one guy still?"

Camille waved her hand. "No strings attached," she dismissed. "Plus, Cameron, she's really fucking hot and a science major." Cameron arched an eyebrow. "Go get her, tiger, or I might have to go after her myself." Camille stuck her tongue out at him. "You wouldn't. Alright, wait here. If I'm not back in five minutes, I'm getting laid tonight and you may have to find your own way home."

Home... When had their dorm room become home to both of them?

Cameron shook his head fondly as Camille disappeared into the crowd. He probably would be walking home tonight, but he could live with that. He smiled wryly again, taking a sip of his drink. He frowned when he realized it was empty again. Already?

He swallowed again, taking a deep breath and making his way over to the kitchen to find him something else to drink.

He took a step, his heartbeat quickening. Something was wrong. Something with his heart. He needed to sit down, he needed to... He reached out to try and grab onto something, someone, because he was going to fall.

Cameron's empty plastic cup clattered to the ground, and suddenly, he joined it.

There was a face above him, someone fading in and out. His chest hurt, but he needed to get up. He needed to find Camille. "Oh my god, man, are you alright?" the guy above him said. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

What did he need... His brain was foggy and he couldn't think. He couldn't think. What did he need... Camille. That was what he needed. He needed his best friend. She'd make it better. "Cam... Cam... Camille," he gasped. CamilleCamilleCamille. Brave, fearless, beautiful Camille. She'd make it better.

There were more people, then, more faces swimming above him, but none of them were Camille. Everything was going gray around the edges, his heart was hammering against his chest, and none of these people were Camille.

"Cameron, what the fuck! _Puta que pariu, puta que pariu,_ Cameron, oh my god," someone said, and he relaxed considerably at the frantic Portuguese. Camille...

She was right next to him in a second, pulling apart the two top buttons of his shirt in on effort to help him breath, which the pain in his chest and the pounding of his heart were making a little difficult. "Cameron, come on, what's wrong? Cameron, Cameron..."

Cameron's finger twitched slightly at his side, limp on the ground. As quickly as he could, he tapped his finger on the hardwood floor beneath him, five times in even succession. Camille's eyes darted over to catch the movement. He gasped again, sucking in a breath and pleading with his eyes for her to understand. It was just some off-handed comment he'd made once, but maybe... Maybe she'd remember.

"M-" Her eyes widened. "Morse code! Cameron, I am definitely not at all sorry for every time I've called you a nerd."

If Cameron had the breath and the heartbeat to spare, he would have laughed.

He tapped his finger once again and then paused before tapping it quickly and then slower. His heart was thundering like a racehorse pounding down the track, and he was having trouble focusing. Next, a quick tap, followed by a longer one, and then a quick one.

"H... E... A... R..." Camille muttered. She suddenly sat up straighter. "Heart. Your heart! Oh my god, Cameron." She looked up from him, wrapping one hand tightly around one of his. "One of you idiots call someone! Or will I have to beat it out of you? Go!"

Everything faded to black with loud music thumping in the background, but his best friend was there and he was content.

-

Cameron honestly wasn't that surprised when rapid-fire Portuguese greeted him upon waking up. He also wasn't surprised to find himself in a hospital. He'd frequented a lot of them growing up.

Ever since they'd met disastrously, Cameron had been attempting to learn Portuguese. He knew a few words, so he was able to pick out a few phrases from her rapid-fire speech. 'Why didn't you,' 'asshole,' and 'Cameron, really, what the fuck' were some of the more notable ones.

He winced slightly, trying to shrink back into the bed. "I'm sorry," he said lamely. Camille finally stopped talking long enough to narrow her eyes. She lifted her right hand, two fingers an inch apart. "I was _this_ close to getting laid, and then I hear some guy yelling that someone dropped, so I was immediately thinking, _Cameron sucks and he's small and fragile, it's probably him._ So I run over and you're actually dying. And then I hear it's your heart? Seriously, bro, what the fuck?"

Cameron dodged the question, smiling weakly. "Well, uh... At least you remembered the Morse code thing..." Camille squinted angrily again. "There's a time for that, and it's not now." Early on in their friendship, Cameron had off-handedly mentioned that as a kid, he'd learned Morse code, and Camille had added that she and her obnoxious brother, Theo, had only tolerated each other doing the same thing.

"I'd really like to know right now, though, why my best friend ever apparently semi-frequently has tachycardic episodes and this huge scar from multiple heart surgeries and _hasn't told me_ ," she said. Cameron winced again and opened his mouth, but she kept going. "As soon as you're good to go, I am taking you home and beating you up." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, one hand on her forehead. "Jesus... I need to take a walk."

Cameron waited a few seconds before she opened her eyes. "Well, I, uh..." He chewed on his lip. "Sorry," he said again. "I just didn't want you to..." Camille let out a long, low breath. "Want me to what?" she said, deadpan. "Treat you differently? Because if that was what you were going to say, I'm literally going to punch you, Goodkin. It's like you don't even know me."

Cameron frowned again. "What?" he asked, confused. "You mean... You don't... What?" Camille huffed again and stood up. "You're the worst," she said. "Of course I wouldn't treat you any differently. You're the only person who's put up with me this long. You're literally my best friend. I'm not gonna ditch you because of that."

Cameron let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Really?" he said. She nodded, smiling. "Really."

She sunk back down into her chair before sighing again. "College seriously sucks. Do you know how many drunk frat guys I had to yell at before someone would call anyone?"

Cameron smiled faintly again. "I would've liked to have seen that..."

\---

**Three: English**

  
Cameron rubbed his eyes, trying to suppress a yawn. He'd been awake for about 3 consecutive days because of assignments and labwork, he had this 12-paged paper he was proofreading to turn in tomorrow, and on top of that, he had an interview at 8 tomorrow morning for a grant to work on a project he'd been dreaming about.

He really, really needed sleep. A lot of sleep.

But he had so much to do...

Cameron leaned forward and thumped his head on the keyboard of his laptop, inserting a string of nonsense letters at the point of his paper he was editing. He heaved a sigh and was seriously considering just dying right here on his keyboard, but was - unfortunately - thwarted by a voice behind him.

"Come on, CammyCam," Camille urged, pulling him up. Cameron groaned, flailing slightly. "Camille, no," he mumbled, resisting movement, but by tugging on his arm, she convinced him. He slumped over slightly, dragging his feet as she led him to the bathroom. "I don't wanna," he complained. "Camille... I gotta... My paper," he complained weakly.

Camille rolled her eyes. She pulled him into the bathroom, flicking the light on. Cameron hissed softly, trying to cover his eyes with his hands. Camille huffed again, but her lips tilted up slightly. "I can't work if I can't see, idiot. Put the toilet seat down and sit on it."

Meekly, Cameron obeyed. He wince at the loud sound of the lid cracking down at the seat, but didn't have the energy to protest. He sank down on it as Camille riffled around in the cabinet above the sink. Eventually, she pulled out shaving cream and an unused razor.

"Head back," Camille commanded. Without hesitation, Cameron obeyed, relaxing his neck and flopping his head back. The back of his head thumped against the tiled bathroom wall. "What are you doing?" he mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Getting you ready for that interview tomorrow. You want that grant money, don't you?" Camille said over the sound of spraying shaving cream into her hands before liberally applying it to Cameron's lower face and neck. "I want the money," he mumbled. "But my paper..."

"Forget the stupid paper," Camille said. "It'll be fine. Now, I'm gonna do some contortionist shit for a second to get this done, don't freak out or I'll cut you." Cameron nodded slightly in assent, coming way too close to falling asleep.

" _Collegium sugit, sed saltem vos hic,_ " Cameron mumbled.

Camille leaned forward, bracing one foot on the bathtub and nearly straddling Cameron to get the right angle. He twitched slightly, yawning, and Camille swore. "I said don't move, okay? That includes talking in weird dead languages. Sit. Still."

He'd like to say he remembered the rest of the night, but quite honestly, he didn't. Cameron was so out of it that he barely recalled the rest of it. All he knew was he woke up the next morning freshly shaved, in his pajamas, and in his bed, with his paper stapled nearly on the bedside table beside him.

There was a yellow sticky note on the first page that read, ' _Finished proofreading. Good luck at the interview. And you're welcome, btw. -C'._

Cameron smiled.

\---

**Four: Latin**

Christmas always exhausted Cameron. Even when he was a little kid, he hadn't been able to enjoy all of the festivities. He'd just get too tired of all the socializing, all the family, the looks of the people who pitied him. It was too much for younger Cameron to handle.

Now an adult, he could put up with it a lot longer, but as an adult, he also had more bad memories of Christmas. He couldn't actually remember a good Christmas.

But this year... Maybe it would be better. He had Camille this year, after all. He was bringing his best friend home with him, and it was going to be okay.

Very, very okay. It was going to be the best Christmas ever.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

He'd fallen asleep in his childhood bed on December 24th thinking those thoughts, his heart pounding in his chest. He had expected them to simply stop when he fell asleep, but this year, like most, he wasn't that lucky.

_He opened his eyes and sat up in bed, frowning as he looked around. He was in a bed, but it wasn't his. It had stiff white sheets instead of his favored blue ones and a metal bed frame. He hesitated before his swung his legs over the edge of the bed and hopped down._

_Hopped down... The floor was farther away than it should have been. Cameron tugged the wires out of his arms before slipping out of the desolate hospital room, a little boy with curly hair and dark blue pajamas reflected in the mirror._

_Cameron padded down the hall quietly. It was... Strange here. It was quiet, way too quiet. And outside of his room, there was just... A hallway. He followed it, shuffling his sock feet along the slick floor. There had to be someone here... It was quiet; eerily quiet for the boy who was used to the hustle and bustle of the hospital's daily routines._

_He kept walking, scratching absentmindedly at his chest. Cameron froze when he heard footsteps echoing down the long, empty hall. He froze, turning slowly on his heel._

_There was a huge, looming, faceless figure in a suit behind him. Cameron's heart sped up. He recognized the outfit immediately. "Dad," he said, taking a step back. "_ Me paenitet- _I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-" The huge, faceless figure swooped forward and grabbed Cameron's wrist, hauling him up. His thick fingers were digging into Cameron's slim wrists, round bruises already starting to form. "What are you doing out of bed?" the figure growled, voice low. "I didn't mean to!" he yelped, trying to squirm out of the tightened grip._ " _Please_ , me paenitet, domine mi, ne noceret mihi!"

_The figure laughed dryly, hauling the boy up by his arm. He was sniffling now, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "_ Me paenitet," _he whimpered again. "Your mother and I pay all that money for your surgeries and you go around and try and waste it? We could just stop, you know?" he said. "If you're not grateful?"_

_Cameron squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry. Crying was a sign of weakness and his father hated weakness. "No, no, I am," he said hurriedly. "_ Domine mi, ne noceret mihi. _Please, I'm sorry." He tried to wipe his eyes with his free hand, but the figure slapped his hand away. "Ungrateful little twerp," he muttered. "Useless. You're never going to do anything, are you? Broken." His grip tightened on Cameron's wrist as the boy fruitlessly tried to pull away._

"Adiuva," _he said, gasping for breath suddenly, his heart beating fast, too fast. "_ Me paenitet, _Dad, I'm sorry, p-please d-don't-" He gasped again, pulling against the hand on his arm. "_ Domine mi, ne noceret mihi, domine mi, ne noceret mihi!"

_He was sobbing now, sobbing and trying to breathe and trying to make his heart slow down. "_ Me paenitet... _" He swallowed, gasping, as a voice crackled over the intercom system of the hospital. "Cameron? Cameron, what the hell? Cameron, wake up..."_

_Wake up... Wake up... Who was that? And why did he need to wake up? He was already awake, he was-_

_Cameron stopped. He stopped pulling away, stopped crying, and his frantic heartbeat slowed down. "Camille," he whispered. It was Camille, so this had to be a dream. He just needed to wake up. He had to wake up. Wake up wake up wake-_

" _Adiuva_!" Cameron shouted, sitting bolt upright in bed, damp with sweat and tangled in his sheets. " _Ad_ -"

"Calm down! Cameron, Jesus, you're dying! Calm down!" Camille was sitting on the bed beside him, her face pale and her hand on his shoulder. Cameron took a deep breath, rubbing his face with his hands. "What..." Camille scooted closer to him, rubbing his back with one hand. "I was next door and I heard you freaking the fuck out. In Latin, which I guess isn't that weird for you. Something like... Help, maybe? You kept saying I'm sorry." Her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry, please don't hurt me. Cameron, what the hell were you dreaming about?"

He pushed his hair back, swallowing. "Well, uh..." He faltered. "Christmas drags up bad memories. My dad..." He tapered off again, squeezing his eyes shut. "Say no more, my friend," Camille said with a sigh and a faint smile. "I know the feeling. You good now?"

Cameron paused for a moment, hesitating. "I think so," he said decidedly. Camille furrowed her brow in thought. "You don't need, like... A glass of water or some Latin verbs or any of your weird, calm down shit?" Cameron laughed softly. "I'm good," he said. "But, uh... Thanks. For the offer." Camille scooted towards the edge of the bed. "Sure, kid?" she asked. "You don't need me to... Hang out in here for the rest of the night?"

Cameron smiled faintly. "Why not?" he said, shrugging. Maybe a little time with his best friend would help sweep away the last dregs of the dream. He threw the sheets back. "Come on," he said with a laugh. Camille grinned and rolled over to land next time. "Platonic snuggle time," Camille said, making sure Cameron knew he was the little spoon as she threw the blankets back over them.

She wiggled up closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "You're the best, CamCam," she said. "And I got your back, always." Cameron smiled again. " _Collegium sugit, sed saltem vos hic_ ," he said, before leaning into her and closing his eyes.

"You say that all the time and I have no idea what it means," Camille complained. Cameron smiled. "Goodnight, Camille," he said. She shook her head fondly and kissed him on the forehead. "Goodnight, Cameron."

\---

**And One: Latin, Portuguese**

"Some Christmas," Camille said, pulling her chair closer to Cameron's bed so she could kick up her feet on the end table. Cameron smiled sheepishly from the hospital bed. "You didn't have to stay," he told her.

She shook her head aggressively before going back to artfully painting her nails. "Where else would I be?" she pointed out. "You're my best friend, ever. Literally ever. And you had actual and literal heart surgery, like, three days ago. I'm not leaving this hospital until you're good to go."

Cameron smiled sheepishly. He winced slightly as he tried to sit up in bed a bit more, but sunk down at Camille's deadly look. "Sit the fuck down," she said. "As I previously said, you got your chest cut open like three days." Cameron let out a woosh of breath, sighing slightly.

"Alright," he relented. He hesitated slightly, chewing on his bottom lip. "I got you a present," he said. Camille scoffed slightly, sliding the brush over her left thumb nail. "Didn't we decide, like, three years ago when we met no presents?" Cameron smiled slightly. "Well, yeah, but... Uh..." He shrugged. "I did it anyway."

Camille laughed. "You're a rat, Cameron," she said. "I got you something, too." Cameron shrugged again. "Guess we both broke the rules."

Camille delicately capped the bottle of nail polish before blowing on her nails. "You want yours now?" she said. It is Christmas." Cameron smiled slightly again. "Sure," he said. "Could you, uh... Yours is in the bottom drawer of the nightstand, there..."

Camille dropped her feet to the ground and pulled the drawer open, reaching in with her dry hand. After a moment, she pulled out two similarly shaped boxes, one in blue, snowman-patterned paper and one wrapped with shimmery red. She paused for a moment, studying the packages, before scooting closer to Cameron's bed and handing him the snowman-wrapped gift. "I was gonna throw that at you, and it was going to hit you in the face and be hilarious," Camille said. "But I also kind of want you to be able to leave, so I won't do that."

Cameron laughed slightly, the corners of his lips twitching. "You don't have to stay," he repeated, his fingers messing with the ends of the wrapping paper. Camille rolled her eyes again, already ripping the paper off her present. "Where else would I go? You're my family."

Cameron almost said something else, almost smiled again and told her incredibly sappily 'you're my family, too.' And she definitely was, that was true. He was in the hospital on Christmas and Camille was the only person who cared enough about him to stop by.

Camille had tossed the ball of wrapping paper aside, finally arriving at the cardboard box. Carefully, she pried it open after peeling off the tape. "Wow, CammyCam," she said. "Cardboard. You really do love me." He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "That was all I could find..."

"I love my box," Camille said fiercely as she tossed the tissue paper aside. "It's the best box ever."

Finally, she arrived at the bottom, having disposed of the excess paper. Cameron chewed on his lip nervously, awaiting her judgement on the gift. She went silent for a few moments.

Too quiet. Camille was never quiet. Oh no, she didn't like it. He shouldn't have gotten her anything because she didn't like it. He'd have to take it back. He could do that, right? Because she obviously didn't like it. Why does he even try with presents?

Slowly, she lifted the gift from the box. It was a braided leather bracelet with a silver plate reading _Collegium sugit, sed saltem vos hic_. "Whoa," she said softly. "Cameron, this is..." Cameron interrupted her, shifting slightly in bed and wincing. "I can take it back," he said. "If you, uh... Don't like it."

Camille burst into laughter. She slid the bracelet over her hand before flopping down on Cameron's bed. "Scoot over. You're so stupid, Cameron. I fucking love it. It's amazing. It's the single greatest gift I've ever received and I will literally wear it forever. I would hug the shit out of you if I wouldn't mess your heart up."

Cameron beamed as he moved over slightly in the hospital bed, making room for Camille to sit beside him. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "So you... Know what it says?" Camille laughed. "CammyCam," she said, "I've known since, like, the third time you said it freshman year. College sucks, but at least you're here."

Cameron smiled softly again. "Now open yours," Camille insisted. "Go on, you're gonna love it." Cameron winced slightly, sitting up, and began to pull the paper off. It was wrapped considerably and instead of cardboard, the gift was concealed in a nice black box. Cameron flipped it open and upon seeing his Christmas gift, laughed.

"I love it," he said honestly. It was a braided leather bracelet with a silver plate reading _Colégio é uma porcaria, mas pelo menos você está aqui_. "Did you know?" he asked, sliding into into his hand. "That I got you pretty much the same thing?"

She shook her head, grinning, and knocked the box off the other side of the bed, snuggling into his side. "Course not," she said. "We're just so tight we're physically linked."

Cameron smiled again, relaxing slightly into his best friend. "College sucks," he said, and Camille finished his thought.

"But at least you're here."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Volo, volas, volat, volamus, volant- I fly, you fly, he/she/it flies, we fly, they fly (Latin)
> 
> Puta que pariu- holy shit (Portuguese)
> 
> Voo, voas, voa, voamos, voam- I fly, you fly, he/she/it flies, we fly, they fly (Portuguese)
> 
> Collegium sugit- College sucks (Latin)
> 
> Collegium sugit, sed saltem vos hic- College sucks, but at least you're here (Latin)
> 
> Adiuva- Help (Latin)
> 
> Me paenitet- I'm sorry (Latin)
> 
> Domine mi, ne noceret mihi- Please don't hurt me (Latin)
> 
> Colégio é uma porcaria, mas pelo menos você está aqui- College sucks, but at least you're here (Portuguese)


End file.
